unforgivable sinner
by miss kilis wale
Summary: anakindarth Vader POV song fic through ANH and ROTJ on lene marlin's Unforgivable sinner. a lot of angst, some flashbacks and one or two ghosts in future chapters. Plz, Read ans Review!
1. chapter one

_Hello reader!_

_Thanks a lot for taking the risk! This is my third published fan fiction and my first **star wars** thing and a song fic to boot, so please, be forgiving! I know this is really long for a song fic so I'm publishing it in chapters, to make it easier to read but I insist on the fact that this IS a song fic!_

_The song I use is called **"Unforgivable sinner"** and it was written in 1998 by Lene Marlin. Now, I think that you will be amazed, just as I was when I first listened to the lyrics (and it was not that long ago, but you must know that I wasn't born an English speaker), to see just how fitting the whole of this song is to the Star wars movies and especially to the story of Anakin Darth Vader, on the light of ROTS. So maybe the force was strong with Lene Marlin when she wrote this and I thought it'd do well as a song fic. Besides, the music is brilliant too._

_You must also be aware that the knowledge that people care (even a tiny bit) about me helps me through every passing day. I enjoy being read, I love being reviewed, I don't even object on being flared, it helps me getting better and besides, it's kind of your right as a reader to flare whoever you don't like! (No really, please, DO review, I only live for that!)_

_One last thing you should know before reading is that I am insane and that in my crazy mind, Star Wars is a mixture of the legends around King Arthur, the Kurosawa movies and Sigmund Freud's Oedipus complex. So, if you can accept that, you might not get mental out of reading this stuff._

_Anyway, now, enjoy!_

_This chapter is set right after the battle of Yavin (just in case you had doubts)_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter one:**

When was the last time he had had time to think? To think really? Of something else than the galaxy to rule, the death star to manage, the Rebellion to crush, Tarkin to get along with? Now, he knew for sure, Tarkin's days were over and it felt like something brand new was at hand. With the destruction of the Death Star, he sensed something was coming. Something even the emperor had not expected. The destruction of their major ship, their best weapon, by an unknown and completely unexpected enemy, this was something big, bigger than anything that had happened since… Since it had happened. Curiously enough, he couldn't remember how many years lay between now and then. A sharp pain erupted inside his chest. Odd. The machinery should have erased that, along with the rest. He thought hard but couldn't quite find how long it had been since then. Or since he had last thought of it.

_**Kinda lose your sense of time but the days don't matter no more**_

_**All the feelings that you hide gonna tear you up inside**_

Yes he did remember the last he had thought of it. When he had set foot on this Alderaanian ship less than a week ago. Just a fleeting thought, he had learnt not to dwell on these, and to shove them out of his mind. But there it was again. Just beneath the surface. Just where he couldn't put his finger on it. It couldn't be that. But then, all this shouting was most unlike him. He was strong. He was a Lord of the Sith. Nothing could reach him. So what was it that had made him so angry at this rebel princess? What was it that had made him want to see her suffer, to see her die? Why had he felt this strange, unwanted thing rise inside him? He had hated her like he hadn't hated a living being for a very long time. But what is hate but the bitter side of love? Now, why was this long since forgotten saying coming back to him? Wasn't that kind of teaching as dead as those who had once tought them? That kind of teaching had not saved her. It had never been enough.

_**You hope she knows you tried**_

The pain erupted again, stronger, colder. He would have to see to it that it got fixed. And he had to find out who was this force sensitive rebel pilot. And wipe out that rebel princess. So many things to do…

He focused on his surroundings. The tiny inside on the fighter. The vast void outside. He had to find a way out of it.

_So? Liked it? Please, R&R!_

_Next chapter set at the end of ROTJ with a few flash backs!_


	2. Chapter two

_Ok, this is the new chapter (obviously). I hope you liked the first, though it was really short, but this one and the next ones will be a little longer._

_I regret to inform you that I do not own Star Wars (though, I wish I could own Liam Neeson, but then, the gorgeous half wit is already married and 30 years older than me…) or the unforgivable sinner song. You all know who they belong to, they're both geniuses and life is sooo unfair that I do NOT make a single cent with this story!_

_But let it not prevent you from reviewing, PLEASE-O-PLEASE-O-PLEASE!_

_(Love you, reader)_

**Chapter two **

The moon of endor hung in the black deep space. The unfinished Death Star was far behind now, and though, its ominous presence was like a weapon aimed at his back. He had made it to conceal the turmoil of his thoughts and feelings in front of the emperor. Partly. He knew this was a test. Or maybe some new kind of twisted punishment. Just like what he had told him when he had awoke. Time had stopped then. And it had been just as if nothing had happened from that moment on. All those years like one long agonizing secon.

_Follows you around all day and you wake up soaking wet_

Sleeping or waking the words clinged onto him, and often he was bitterly glad of the mask he was wearing.

But now, he had to wait. For the first time in years, he was waiting for something to happen and time had a meaning and a substance. He had just been informed that the men on duty had caught one of the rebels who had landed on the moon. A young, sand-haired man with old fashioned clothes who called himself Skywalker.

He repressed the urge to pace the corridor. He felt the presence so clearly now, even more clearly than in the Cloud City when he had seen his face for the first time. He remembered when he had first felt it, several years ago, while chasing that rebel princess in the orbit of Tattouin, so dim he had thought it was a mere residual force signature of his own years on the sun-battered sand-ball down below, and afterward, so disturbing, on the death Star, mingled with Obiwan's and so painfully like Padmé's… then he had begun to feel the pain in his chest. It had been growing more and more since then, just as if a thread of himself was being stretched to breaking point.

_ Cause between this world and eternity there is a face you hope to see_

He felt the presence approach. He turned to face the door. It opened with a hissing noise and there he was, right behind some smart little officer who seemed very pleased with making himself noticed with his "brilliant" deduction that a rebel is never alone on a planet.

He almost ripped the item the man handed him and ordered him out, barely noticing him obeying with a disappointed face. Again, the pain rose in his metal encased chest. He couldn't get used to it. Nothing he had done could erase it or even ease it. On the Cloud City, it had been searing, almost excruciating, when he had felt the boy's –his son's- hatred crashing against him. The boy –his boy- had been so cleverly taught to hate him. And though, he was so much like his older self: same eyes, same complexion, same built, almost the same face, this no one could deny. Something missed though. He couldn't find any trace of the mother in the son. Nothing. Where had she gone? There was a strange, fleeting second when his sight of the world seemed to blur.

_ You know where you sent her you should know where you are_

As if for the first time, he achingly wondered where she had been afterwards. He knew, for certain, as he had known without the slightest doubt that he needed her, that she was still alive when they had begun to fight and that when he had pasted out, she was still breathing too. He knew something had happened in-between, weeks had elapsed before he had awoke again to consciousness. Obi wan had gone, had stopped him from saving her. He had always been good at it, Obi wan: only by being good and well thinking and perfect, he had always managed to get in his way. From the very first day, as he had left his birthplace behind. (He had never really given him his trust, never, in spite of everything he had done to gain it, to deserve it) Oh, sure, Obi wan had always had very good reasons; the jedis always had. But in grief, who among the Jedi had turned to him as a boy, only once? They had been two to bow in front of the little jedi delegation all those years ago on Naboo. But whose shoulder had been patted? Whose hand had been taken in a gesture of comfort? Whose grief had been paid attention to? Amazing how even though all this had been dead and gone for decades, almost three years after his own death, beyond all this, Obi Wan could still hurt him. All this that had happened to him, thanks to Obi Wan…

"Come with me!" said the boy. Rage flared inside him. The very same words… Nothing had changed. Was Obi Wan just waiting behind the nearby door, to take from him the last thing that was left to take?

_ You're trying to ease off, but you know you won't get far_

He had lost it all, all those who cared for him, all the friends, all those he loved, his family, his youth, his own child, his own wife, his angel of beauty, the one miracle of his life –and its curse too. All those blissful moments, ever since he had first set eyes on her, when he would look at her, when she would look back and smile, when he would touch her, and kiss her, and when she would say that she was his and the world was complete. And yet she had turned away from him, she had betrayed him, yes she had! She had brought Obi Wan along, he had told her to stay on Coruscant where she would have been safe, but she had to come and mess it all up with her words… What had she said? So many things he hadn't thought of for years… The sound of her voice… he knew it had been sweet, and kind, and warm, but he couldn't recall one word she had said. He knew she had said things, but he could hear her words and her beautiful voice no more.

_ And she's up there, sings like an angel but you can't hear those words_

"You'll be forced to kill me"

What could he say to that? Was it fate that his angel had died at his own hand? Was it fate that all those near him should die because of him? First Qui-Gon, then Shmi, then all the others, his former companions, his wife… Now should his own son fall as well? Was he cursed? Well, this certainly was a possibility. There was this prophesy that had triggered the whole thing, ancient, rotten, corrupted words. He felt now how strong the boy's faith in the force Obi Wan had taught him was. To break it would break him. Yes, it would be his doom. Nothing could avoid it. For once, he knew, the emperor would be wrong. And all the searching and waiting was for nothing at all. He was lost. Cursed. Rejected. Disowned. Dead. Alone.

_ And she's up there sings like an angel Unforgivable sinner…_

_ Well, hope you liked it. Can you see now just how close to the movie this song is? Amazing! PLEASE R&R!_

_Reader, you are my sex symbol! _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: flashback

Deep darkness was around him again. Even darker than the night down there on the moon. Space was cold. The last time he had been on Naboo had been cold too. Deadly cold. And colourless, unless you called the red blur he had come to call his eye sight a colour. He had thought that he might learn something there. Something like how come this son of his that he had just seen and talked to and almost touched only days ago breathed and walked and was? He knew her star-ship all by heart, down to the meanest recesses, there was no medical facility of any kind on board; not even emergency supplies. The child could not have survived. And on the video data from Naboo he had been made to watch, she still had that swollen belly of hers. It could not be. He had to go. He had seen their son.

He had arrived at dusk. The place looked dull and old. People, human and gungan hurried away as he passed them by. He hadn't bothered to visit the imperial governor or the queen. He had walked straight to the huge stone monument by the river. A late school group scattered at the sight of him, the dignified teacher's cloak billowing after her as she tried to gather her panicked pupils. Some stories there where about the emperor's mysterious servant that kids should not be told. He had passed the guards with the usual mind trick and made sure that no one would disturb him. He paced slowly around the small plaza underneath the high dome, searching the force, sensing the thousands of people who had been here before. One or two felt remotely reminiscent but most where completely anonymous to him. There he sensed scornfully, the young teacher had stood, while telling her pupils about architecture, history and fight for freedom and peace. She felt oddly familiar but he shoved it away from his mind. He concentrated harder. Older presences came to his mind, as the years flowed backward in his force vision. Regular gatherings were held here. Hatred rose in him as he felt the withered trace of Obi Wan's presence, closer to another trace, the alderaanian senator's, as it appeared to be. It was like looking at fossils. Images, forms, feelings, faces, voices, so clear he could almost touch them, from times so remote he had forgotten almost everything about them, and there they were, distant and dusty like old holos.

He walked through the ghosts to the large stone sitting in the middle of the plaza. It was carved into a face, her face, but designed, unnatural and cold. The carved features were harmonious and no doubt, the handcraft was fine but it was nothing like life. The stone hands were lying on the slightly swollen stone belly. So much for appearances… Her name was engraved in a smaller stone facing the entrance. Yet, he could not bring himself to think that it was her lying there. How could she, since he had not killed her? She had lived to deliver their son, she couldn't be dead. It could not be. Maybe this was all fake. Maybe this tomb was empty. Maybe she was somewhere out there… Suddenly, the pain seared again in his chest. He reached out for support. His mechanical gloved hand grabbed the stone. He sensed something. Faint, terribly faint and distant but still undeniably familiar... Not for the first time of his life, he wished he had never felt the force, whished the thing itself didn't exist at all and that he had been born to a normal set of parents somewhere where people would know nothing of that kind of power. He could find comfort only in the thought that his mask wouldn't let anyone know what his face really was like. Under the lid of stone, there she was, but it was not her, she was gone. Again… Forever…

And yet, as he led the small shuttle towards the Death Star, he knew their living son was sitting behind him, handcuffed and silent, but alive. But of the whole story of life and death, he knew nothing.

_You've been walking around in tears no answers are there to get_

The boy looked deep in thought too but nothing near his own turmoil. Did he only know what his words had awoken? How much ashes they had shaken? Things older than he was. Things he couldn't have memories of. Unless he had been told. Maybe it had all been orchestrated years ago… But no, Obi Wan could not have told him. Obi Wan was dead. He could not do anything to him anymore. There was no deceit in the boy. The words were genuine. Here was the pain again. Would it ever stop? No advances check could track were the problem was. Pity there had been no one to blame… Except Palpatine himself. But then, it would be quite a stupid thing to do, to destroy one's own right arm, wouldn't it? And if he knew one thing about the emperor after all those years, it was that he was all but stupid.

Poor boy… He had honestly thought that his own sacrifice would be enough to "turn him back"… That those candidly spoken words could undo years and facts. He was blinded, by compassion of course, but this was almost stupidity. Love didn't save people. Compassion didn't ease grief. They only made things more painful and more embarrassing.

Besides, honestly, did the boy have eyes to see? Did he really think that his rebel friends would see things as he did? That they would accept among their ranks he who had been their archenemy for the past twenty years? Just because one idealistic boy told them that his father could be nice when he tried… No. The only way out for the both of them was where they headed. Or it would mean death as traitors for the both of them. This was the only way they had left, no mater how hard it was for loving idealistic young men.

_You won't ever be the same someone cries and you're to blame._


End file.
